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Willow 18h
There on the tar
Lies paint with a purpose
We wander too far
Over the lines of hierarchy
Destined to face the consequences
Set by the ones whose eyes
Have experienced this all before.

Troubled souls state simply
That lines are meant to be crossed
They say this with impulse in limbs
With zero regard for the tarnished ending.
Souls of this demeanor
Will never wholy construct the finish
Solely being because of velocity.

You’ve state the line is blurred
The paint is worn or faded
Yet I still stand here listening.
This road has been shattered by youth
The less weathered assume the sun
Would’ve dried the paint by now.
Little do they know
The paint has always been wet.
Pt. 1
Alyssa Underwood Nov 2015
O Prize of heaven, Treasure of my heart
Let me suffer, if only I may seek Thee
Let me fail, if only I may find Thee
Let me give up all, if only I may gain Thee
For Thou and Thou alone art the Prize
"I want to know Christ and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings, becoming like Him in His death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.  Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."
-Philippians 3:10-14
Eleni 3d
What can I do?
When I am so smitten for thee-
That the icicles of my past, melt in just
a stare of thine starry eyes.

There is a chasm between Me
and Thouest, which lies a fire so warm,
And bright, it does at once light
the darkest of nights and desires.

What I would give-
to feel thine enamoured heat...
Caressing the knots and scars across my body.
Your kiss is comparable to the smokiest oud and fresh tobacco-
lighting our pyres.

Alas, it is impossible to rhyme in your presence!
I stutter at the fluttering of your individual hairs
standing up to greet
the deity you love most deep.

This vessel is the human alchemy for thee:
The everlasting sycamore cooling beside the sea.
Touch my face
with those hands of yours
run them over my cheeks
and around my nose

Wrap my body
in your arms
and let me enfold mine
around yours

I want to feel your skin
as we lie together
in the still light of day
or the whirling half-light that comes with the moon

In summer we can rest
under the simmering brightness
that paints itself
across our room

In winter we can huddle together
wrapped around one another
sharing heat
tangled in each others hearts

I want you to be there
to hold you
I want to be there for you
to be held

So please
let that smile stretch your lips
your happiness is contagious

let your laughter spill out
into my ear
it sounds like the smell of light on water

fresh and clear
and beautiful
glimmering under the trees

So please
When we settle down for the night
under the same covers
give me your hand and rest your head next to mine

and we can lie intertwined
sharing our heart-laden breaths
because physical closeness is not necessary for all, but is everything to some (love may not fade with distance, but being together is bliss)
I’ve written many words,
Scribbles, there on a page.
Flat and black shapes against
White, or sometimes yellow.

Written so many words,
Without language, just forms.
I put my soul in them,
And yet, I can’t feel them.

All those so many words,
Fingers run across them,
Close my eyes, nothing there.
But read them, just read them!

Each careful choice of word,
Meaningless glyphs to some,
Have no feel to the touch.
But somehow they touch you.

I write all my heart’s words.
I don’t live in a page.
I don’t live in a screen.
But I can still touch you.

I’ve written every word,
To bring you close to me,
Sensation of my lips,
To kiss you with my words.
The miracle that happens when a poet touches someone.
Instagram @insightshurt
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
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Renhui Sep 14
before you take me, my dear
   before you take me
   to your arms

let me look at you
   closely -
   in a hundred different ways
   from dusk to dawn
   awake or asleep
   as the music flows

let me hold your hand
   freely -
   across the streets and meadows
   like a little girl
   who has not known the manners of the world

let me worship you
   piously -
   with flowers, smiles, tears, and kisses
   and say a thousand times
   as if in a prayer
   "i love you"

then only then
take me to your arms
      and bring me
      to bliss
toni 6d
there are times where
i can't quite get myself
to say "we"

somehow it feels too intimate
somehow, it feels as though
i'm crossing lines i should not
by referring to "us" as one

even "you and i"
seems to blur
these invisible lines

i don't know quite yet
but i'd like to think
there's still time
them: you've got time to grow
them: and i have time to watch you grow
me, thinking: you're right. we have time
me instead: you're right. there's still time
If I told you my secret, would you feel the same?
Would we share the same intimacy?
Is it really a secret when It's begging to be told.
Secrets feel like some type of forbidden mystery.
Trapt away never to be told.
Only those who witnessed it know.
But you witnessed it and still do not.
It won't be my secret forever
It'll soon be yours too.
somewhere far from wishes and washes of light waves crashing  - --- curves and shores
at moonlight and rough waves,  i sea you float by hummmming,
soothing, swooning, 1920's jazz blues and melodic piano - maybe sad show tunes.
down in the dark, past depths you sea.
i stay down here
im a monster. afraid
but  i can breathe in depths that be.



i've learned to live though.
its actually quite peaceful
not a sound.. not a swim.
just me. floating . and at peace.
I've found restful nights in my solitude. knowing that you're afloat. somewhere. drifting. down below or up high. idk
not too far though.
you'll get your fur wet.


one night, i met the god of the sea and he asked me if i could have anything what it would be.
.
.
well i thought long and hard.
and said

"i wish that no matter where i go, where i float,
how far from sea to sea, that lion on the blue.. her love and heart.  and her stars think of me."

that no matter how many leagues in the sky and sea.
that she looks down at the water - up at the moon. and hums her tunes, thinking one day, that she looks down at me. wondering what love lyes in the darkness that be .
that this krusty krab remains her bearer to be.
a monster to some
but no matter how ugly.
remembers every hum and song she's uttered for the sea
..
its actually quite peaceful
not a sound.. not a swim.
just me. floating
away but never far. that feeling. that be.
Ray Ross Sep 11
I'm halfway to hell, the way you look at my eyes, the way you stare into me.
I'm halfway to heaven, the softly sinful looks that take me far, far away,
The way you make me feel like I could sprout wings and fly.

Now that you know I'm trouble, will you stick around?
Will you love me the same, now that you know who I am?
The way he touched me months ago, it made me afraid.
Take me away from thoughts about him.

And yet, he comes back around, I see him around, and his face sends me into hell,
The sinful looks we shared, it wasn't soft, never soft, never sweet.
Dear lord forgive me, I was too young.

I can't be this close with you no more, I think of him and everything hurts and everything bursts and I might cry,
And yet I cannot bring myself to tell you why.
I'm so sorry.

I see his face and he makes me feel like a panic attack, my whole self bursts and I have to get away.
My breathing grows fast and I'm afraid, even though I know, he can't come near me.
I worry that you won't want to hear, I worry that you already know there's more than what I've told you.

I push you away suddenly when we're kissing at night, I can't tell you why your embrace feels so safe and so terrifying, why he haunts me even while with you.
I can barely say his name, I had to work toward it.

I watch movies with friends, some scenes I can't handle, the girl is pressured, or held down, I can't watch,
I make a face and look away. It isn't just sensitivity, I'm afraid.
I'm so afraid.
I'm so afraid.
I'm so afraid.

But then there's you.

You hold me softly, I know you don't understand or know why I pushed you away, but you're still there. You ask me if I'm okay.
I'm okay.

I'm okay.
I'm still in recovery.
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